


guillotine

by dazaionice



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentioned Hinata Shouyou, More like a Hopeful Ending, The Author Regrets Nothing, they kiss (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazaionice/pseuds/dazaionice
Summary: “...later last night, a car suffered an accident and overturned in one of the main streets of the Bunkyo District. The driver and one of the passengers didn’t suffer any heavy injuries, but the third passenger who was on the backseat suffered from severe head trauma, fractured ribs and internal organs damage.”“The boy has 18 years and it’s a well know junior volleyball player. More details about the accident will be revealed by our reporter, Taniguchi Akari.”How do you deal when the love of your life, your best friend, your favorite setter, loses his memory? Kenma suffers with memory loss while Kuroo has to deal with holding back his feelings all over again.





	guillotine

**Author's Note:**

> Clinically, this sort of memory loss is highly unlikely and it's definitely different from the one I speak of on the fic.  
> You can't usually recover long therm memories if you lost those due an accident or something because of the cell damage, but everything is extremely relative and especific of each case.
> 
> work for my sweet super sweet [Riko](https://twitter.com/bishamoan_). I had a huge fun writing this, especially since it's been so long since the last time i wrote angst!!!!
> 
> I can't never thank [shoutbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutbot) the enough for helping me this much and being my beta even though she's not a fan of Haikyuu.

Things were supposed to be simple. All Kenma had to do was go to Kuroo’s new apartment, on the other side of Tokyo. Too bad the things they had to discuss weren’t so simple.

 

It’s not like in every weekend party, you kiss your best friend while under effects of extreme ingestion of alcohol. It’s not like at every morning after, your best friend confesses to you. 

 

Solving this out was crucial at this point. Even after all the not so sober texts, the written love confessions from both sides and a solution to their feelings, there were still things to speak. Kenma needed to hear Kuroo’s voice saying all the things he had written down and Kuroo needed to kiss Kenma’s lips like he had done in the drunken haze.

 

Kenma’s parents offered him a ride because they were going to that side of the town for a dinner as well. Kenma took it, how could he not. Going there by car was so much more simpler than traveling by two different train routes.

  
  
  
  


Kuroo was going insane. It had been three hours since Kenma warned him he was leaving home and that in 15 minutes he would arrive at Kuroo’s apartment.

 

The doorbell never rang and neither no one hit on his door.

 

His calls weren’t being answered.

 

He had tried his parents too, but it was the same dead end.

 

[10:21 P.M]

Is the traffic too bad around there?

 

[10:22 P.M]

There’s candies here, I’ll let you steal them if it makes you happy <3

 

[10:40 P.M]

You’re taking so long in there I hope you went to the bathroom earlier

 

2 missed calls

 

[11:38 P.M]

I know your games are cool and all but can you please, reply?

 

3 missed calls

 

[11:58 P.M]

I’m starting to freak out please respond

 

1 missed call

 

[12:03 A.M]

Kenma istg I’m gonna kill you

 

[12:40 A.M]

Please answer me

 

Kuroo didn’t slep that night, not on his own volition anyway. He dozed off accidentally on the couch and woke up to the sound of the opening song from the 5 A.M news.

 

“...later last night, a car suffered an accident and overturned in one of the main streets of the Bunkyo District. The driver and one of the passengers didn’t suffer any heavy injuries, but the third passenger who was on the backseat suffered from severe head trauma, fractured ribs and internal organs damage.”

 

“The boy has 18 years and it’s a well know junior volleyball player. More details about the accident will be revealed by our reporter, Taniguchi Akari.”

  
  
  
  


Pain.

  
  
  
  


Everything hurt but he felt nothing at all.

 

Kuroo’s head and heart ached as he raced outside of his door.

 

Still, Kuroo’s body felt nothing as he tripped and fell on his knees on the concrete.

  
  
  
  


They said Kenma wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. He always hated those. He used to say it suffocates him.

 

They said the driver, Kenma’s dad, was trying to avoid a dog who was in the middle of the completely empty street.

  
  
  
  


They didn’t tell Kuroo about how heavy his foot was on the gas pedal, because they were late. 

 

They didn’t tell Kuroo how anxious Kenma felt and looked like, during the car ride.

 

They didn’t tell how his mother, concussed and bloody, turned around to check on Kenma after the accident and screamed. She thought he was dead.

  
  
  
  


They didn’t hear Kenma, bordering inconscience, saying “I’m sorry.” before passing out.

  
  
  


Kuroo sat on the waiting room for hours. The entire Nekoma team showed up at some point. He has a faint memory of hugging all the ones that came to him, face stained with tears and heart pained with worry.

 

The surgery lasted 7 hours and Kuroo didn’t eat anything during that time.

  
  
  


“He had a severe head trauma, the internal bleeding both on his brain and his internal organs were fixed but there are still some damages. We’ll only the know the extent once he wakes up.” The doctor said. She looked so young, Kuroo mused if he should trust her words.

  
  
  


A week later, Kenma woke up. Kuroo had barely went to his home on those two days. No food went past his mouth, only liquids and a bit of soup Kenma’s mom made him eat.

 

When Kuroo heard he had woke up, he ran to the room. The nurses yelled at him, for making too much noise and a big fuzz across the hallways but it’s not like he cared.

 

Kenma was awake.

 

His Kenma was awake.

 

He could finally tell Kenma how much he loved him.

 

Kuroo reached the threshold of Kenma’s room, breath nearly ragged and mind running 1000 km per hour. Kenma would scold him so much for that later.

 

There were nurses inside the room checking for his vitals, but he was awake. He was there, tangible and living so Kuroo lived again.

 

His parents were there too, talking in a hushed tone on the corner of the room. When Kuroo glanced at them, he noticed that Kenma’s mom had tears on her eyes and her voice was drowning on her own throat. Both of Kenma’s parents looked at him, but she suppressed a sob and hid on her husband’s chest.

 

Something was wrong but they could fix it.

 

Walking to Kenma’s bed, he studied the younger’s body like a hawk. He was thinner and smaller than before, vanishing inside the big hospital clothes and all the wires connecting him to machines. His face was scrunched up, looking at everything with confusion coating fear. It only got worse when his eyes met Kuroo’s exhilarating smile, but Kuroo didn't mind it. 

 

He was awake. 

 

“Kenma.” Was all Kuroo said before covering the smaller body in a crushing hug.

 

Kenma didn’t reacted at all but Kuroo could hear his breath go in and out faster than it should. Kenma was really thinner than before and his skin was like cold iron on Kuroo's burning body. Kuroo broke the hug and stepped back, still smiling.

 

His eyes scanned the brunette’s face as if he was searching for something to grasp on. A detail, a thing to hold on that would make all the blank pages inside his head get covered in words and colors.

 

He couldn’t.

 

Kenma couldn’t remember.

 

“Who are you?”

  
  
  


The doctor pushed Kuroo aside and explained him everything about Kenma’s conditions.

 

He had lost his long-term memories and in the process his short-term memory became a bit debilitated. Kenma would have to write everything down from now on and train his memory for years.

  
  
  


When Kenma was discharged, Kuroo made sure to drive him home. It had been hard to convince his parents since they were still handling the trauma, but he made it. 

 

Kenma had no memory of the accident at all, so he had no bigger issues about getting inside a car. But he did had an issue of getting inside Kuroo’s car.

 

The weakened boy stood still, looking at Kuroo with a backed away expression. He had no idea if he could trust the tall standing man with a muscled body and messed up hair. For all he knew, the man was a stranger.

 

But his parents had allowed him, so he must be trustworthy, right?

 

“I know you're supposedly my friend and all, but i really, really, don't wanna get inside a car with you.”

 

Kenma's hair was far too short. In order to do the surgery, they had to shave a portion of his head. What wasn’t shaved, they cut short afterwards, taking away all the bleached strands. Kuroo still wasn't used to the sight of a short and dark haired Kenma. 

 

Kuroo sighed. He wasn't completely taken aback by Kenma fighting him on the garage, but it hurted all the same. He wanted - needed even - to bring Kenma back. The team missed him, his friends missed him. Kuroo missed him. 

 

The doctors said it would take time, but Kenma could get his memories back. It was just a matter of time, patience and healing. 

 

So why did it hurt so much when Kenma treated him with distance and a telltale fear?

 

“I'm not gonna kidnap you.”

 

Kenma crossed his arms and shrinked. He wanted to remember but he couldn’t. Looking for his memories felt like he was tethering in a dark room searching for the smallest of buttons. He could barely remember his parents or his childhood, let alone the man in front of him. 

 

“I don't know you!” The smaller whispered, broken and terrified. 

 

“You know me, Kenma.” Kuroo’s heart was being crushed, so his voice sounded pained. The possible - terrible - outcomes were looming on top of their heads. “The doctors said you have to try, right? The brain cells aren't completely destroyed, it's no big deal.”

 

“Try you!”

 

Kenma's hands were pressing his own arms, trying to swallow himself further and further like the most empty ouroboros. 

 

It was so ironical that ouroboros meant wholeness while all Kenma felt was complete void. 

 

“Go ahead and lose your own memories then! If it's such a small deal, why do I feel like dying because of it?”

 

Kuroo was a dry leaf under Kenma's foot and he crumbled. Broken and twisted maybe even beyond patching levels. He didn't let it show, of course he didn't. 

 

Still, there was nothing harder than hearing Kenma say between the lines how much he wished to die. 

 

The brunette rested his forearm on top of the car and hid his face in there. He wouldn’t (couldn’t) let Kenma see him as a broken piece of a puzzle.

 

“I won't pretend to know what you go through, if that's what you want.”

 

Kuroo heard Kenma sniff. Kenma, the boy who hated to be seen shedding tears, was crying in front of Kuroo.

 

He wished he hadn't called Kenma to go to his apartment that night. 

 

The older wasn’t going to look up now that Kenma was vulnerable like this. So he kept his eyes away from Kenma's view, hiding and yet vigilant for any sound that came from the small and frail boy standing on the other side of the car. 

 

Kuroo wondered if Kenma was feeling pain from the surgery stitches while his own mind wrecking pain increased. 

 

“But I still want to help you. I may be terrible at it, but I promise you that my intentions are good.” 

 

Because I love you. He could have said, but he didn’t.

 

“I'm sorry.” Kenma's reply came after a minute or two. His voice was even more cracked than it was before he yelled.

 

Kuroo didn't even know why he was apologizing for.

 

Kenma got inside the car but he shed tears silently the entire ride. 

  
  
  


They didn’t texted much.

 

Kenma was distant, quiet and scared from not remembering.

 

But he could have been scared from remembering, as far as Kuroo knew.

 

And Kuroo kept his distance even though he wished to bring Kenma closer towards his chest.

  
  
  


Kenma was wrecked.

 

His life, his entire existence was a play without acts and dialogues where he stood in the middle of a stage while everyone kept acting on. He was a ghost and yet he still lived, a shell with life but a shell all the same.

 

It hurted, his own presence and everyone around him. They asked him about stories he didn’t know, told him about things he did while he had no recollection of it. Kenma loved his friends, that wasn’t the problem.

 

He appreciated them. They were trying their best to help him overcome the blankness but it’s not like it worked. His psychiatrist told him about how hearing stories was good to exercise his brain and maybe regain some shadows of his memories. But this was far from feeling good. 

 

Still, everything felt as if they were telling tales about someone else that wasn’t him. He didn’t feel as if he belonged the place that he was on.

 

Kenma screams but it’s not like the screams make past his throat. He drowns them every single time just like the memories he was supposed to have.

 

Everything was sinking and he was drowning. The agony was terrible and it made him wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, strangling his own voice to hold down any screams. The room was too dark, too suffocating.

 

He wanted to die.

 

So the antidepressants kicked in.

 

He texted Kuroo for the first time in a month.

  
  
  


Kenma regretted the decision of meeting up with Kuroo with a simple glance to the man’s direction.

 

“You used to like this.” Kuroo said, offering him a generous piece of apple pie. 

 

A love confession. A peace offering. Which one of those Kuroo was truly giving him?

 

Kuroo didn't tell him about their kiss. Of course he couldn't, simply because he couldn't. He couldn't give something like this for Kenma and expect to be understood or even accepted as a lover in his life. Not after everything that had happened. 

 

He couldn't tell Kenma about the sweet and dizzying haze of alcohol, making their minds glowly and words easy on their mouths. The touch, so sweet and gentle in a way only two people in love for so long could give each other. Longing lips touching each other tentatively seeking themselves inside each other under the name of love. 

 

They sat in silence across each other while the coffee shop bustled with life and movement. Neither of them felt apt enough to keep up with it. Kenma ate, hesitant at first but devouring more and more with each bite he took. 

 

Kenma didn't know where that came from. Even though his mind didn't remember a single thing, his body did. The taste of it was like home and warmth, something fleeting and with a good type of anxiety all at the same time. He needed more of that even though he wanted to throw the plate across the shop. 

 

“This was our favorite spot.”

 

Favorite spot. 

 

Kenma wondered how that felt like, to have a favorite place shared with a favorite person while eating your favorite food. 

 

He couldn't stop the tears filling his eyes now. He couldn't stop himself from letting go of the fork harshly on top of the plate, the acute sound making him fight the urge to flinch. 

 

He couldn't bring himself to eat the last piece. 

 

Kuroo didn't say anything because he didn't know how. He didn't expect to reach a point in his life when he wouldn't know how to speak to Kenma. His favorite setter, his best friend, the person he loved the most. 

 

“Why don't you just let go?” Kenma spoke, voice barely above a whisper and he waited.

 

He waited and waited for a reply that didn't came. 

 

Instead, Kuroo reached out and brought his hands millimeters from Kenma. Not touching but expressing how much he wanted by stretching his fingers to the most and then carving his nails on the wood table. 

 

He couldn't touch Kenma but he needed. The latter realized it from the way Kuroo's breath was shallow and how he had uneasy fingers, so he took a faith leap. 

 

The smaller boy moved his hand slowly, one centimeter at time, until his fingertips grazed Kuroo's own. 

 

Kenma’s heart stopped and he couldn't even start to pinpoint what he felt. The butterflies decided to do an uprise on his stomach, fighting against him as if they wanted to go past his esophagus and out through his mouth. His entire skin tingled as if there were pins breaking the flesh there.

 

His mind didn't remember it but his body did. 

 

Kenma sucked in a breath, fighting back the ghosts of the feelings he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

 

It was too much. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this. All he wished was to disappear from this place, to not eat the last piece of apple pie sitting in the middle of the blue plate and to not touch the man sitting in front of him ever again. 

 

He retreated his hand as if Kuroo was burning him, breath speeding up and panic boiling inside his entire being. 

 

Kenma got up and ran. 

  
  
  


Kuroo texted him. He called and even left some voicemails. 

 

Kenma didn't reach back. 

 

How could he? Kuroo was a person looking at him, waiting, expectant and clearly in love for someone that didn't exist. Kuroo was waiting at his home and on his heart for someone who would never come back. 

 

Kenma mourned the lost love and his very being. 

  
  
  


Hinata, the person he least expected, helped him. The bright and warm boy was like a balm certain days. He didn't ask Kenma about things he had no recollection of, or treated Kenma as someone mained and hurt. He taught Kenma every small thing he could every single day by texting and calling, congratulating him a lot when he said he recalled something. 

 

Kenma started to remember things. Small flashes and pieces, facts he knew he hadn't heard about on the most recent days. He remembers setting. The feeling of a ball on his hands being redirected and sent to someone. Someone, but who?

 

He remembers playing hide and seek, how his younger self liked to pet cats and stray animals. 

 

He remembers party lights and loud music. 

  
  
  


Kuroo stopped reaching out at some point but he never stopped hoping. He had dreams about Kenma. They didn’t talk much some nights. In others, they spoke for what felt like hours and hours. 

 

It was like a part of his soul was missing, taken away by a demon.

 

He didn’t know how to move on with his life but he tried all the same.

  
  
  


His college classes took a toll on him bigger than he expected and he lost track of time. He buried himself on studies, internships, projects and essays so that the pain he felt became a background noise.

 

It’s not like it could make him avoid and forget all the nights he cried himself to sleep.

 

He missed Kenma.

 

He missed Kenma so much it hurt.

 

Kuroo mourned for a lost love and a lost friendship.

  
  
  


It had rained all week. Restless, heavy raindrops hit the walls and windows of his apartment at midnight while he searched for things to busy his mind during his winter break.

 

He never expected for someone to hit his door at this time of the night under the circumstances Tokyo found itself in. Kuroo waited, listening the knocking sounds and counting the time between them. Eventually they would give up and just leave.

 

But the knocking didn’t stop. If so, it became even more insistent and urgent than it was on the first minute.

 

Kuroo sighed, stretched his arms and fixed his clothes before reaching the doorknob. He opened it and sooner than later he was hit by drizzle and some raindrops started to stain his sweatpants. The sound of the rain was deafening but the sound of his slamming heart became louder.

 

Kuroo could hear the blood rushing on his ears when his eyes met Kenma’s.

 

Kenma was drenched in water. His clothes were completely soaked, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had come running all the way to him.

 

Perhaps he even did.

 

Kuroo noted how Kenma’s hair was already reaching his ears and it was blonde again.

 

He missed Kenma so much it hurt.

 

His presence there was like a balm to a burnt injury. Kuroo felt himself break down. The dam he build to keep his feelings in check broke like the weakest glass. The dome he surrounded himself with bursted like a soap bubble.

 

Kenma is here, Kenma is here. His heart chanted while his mind couldn’t even grasp the situation.

 

Kenma looked at him, wide-eyed and glowing yellowish eyes met Kuroo’s hazel ones and Kuroo thrived. Kenma was a mess, hair strands going everywhere and dripping on his face.

 

Kenma had never looked prettier.

 

Kuroo didn’t even process the act of saying “hi” when Kenma spoke, fast like a bullet.

 

“You kissed me.”

 

Kenma had a dream. It was recurrent and in pieces like everything else did, but this one felt more special than anything he had to recall. This was important and it was precious so he focused all his strength to recall it.

 

And then, one hour earlier, it hit him. Kuroo had kissed him while they were drunk, and it had been close to the accident.

 

Kuroo kissed him and maybe, maybe, they were in love with each other at some point.

 

But it didn’t made things easier. It made them harder. Having almost sure that someone, the man in front of him, actually loved him made him scared.

 

Perhaps a good type of scared, but scared nonetheless. 

 

Kuroo felt all sort of things, but the most dangerous of all was hope. Hope enclosed his throat like vines, clenching his heart and stealing his oxygen. Hope was what kept him there, standing still while Kenma tried to control his breathing and tremblings, tentatively opening his mouth to speak something.

 

Hope and love were the things that gave him foundations to be still and wait.

 

“You kissed me, and I want you to do it again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the wild ride, make sure to leave some love on your way out!
> 
> Leave kudos, comments, bookmarks. I'll reply everything and treasure my readers tons cause you guys deserve it.  
> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dazaionice) for low quality art, fic snippets and prompts. Also the shitposting.


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